


A Shared Interest

by ChannarySosa



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pride and Prejudice vibes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 02:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12289002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChannarySosa/pseuds/ChannarySosa
Summary: Shite title cause I don't know what to call this.Anywho, Reader is a Northern lady who catches the interest of Roose.





	A Shared Interest

You squealed with laughter as you ran across the courtyard to the horse stables. Your friend Jayne ran after you throwing her frock in your direction. Spinning back to taunt her, you see Lord Bailon eyeing you from the castle. You slow and begin to walk with some dignity. Jayne notices your father watching and does the same. You turn slyly to see that he had gone from the ledge. Jayne quickly notices and you suddenly sprint forward. 

“Hey!” She yells after you, both out of breath and laughing. You both quickly enter the stable and mount your horses. 

Cool winds glide over your cheeks as you ride into the hills surrounding the castle. Jayne comes to your side. Your horses stand idly while you take in the view. 

“You must cherish every moment you have here…” Jayne sighs. 

You furrow your eyebrows at her sudden and serious nature, “Why?” you ask. 

She looks into the distance, “Don’t you think your father will soon marry you to some Lord?” She looks to you with disappointment. 

Now was your turn to look away. You gaze over the northern lands and exhale, “I think you’re right.”  

“Perhaps he will find a nice young Northern lord for you at the wedding,” Jayne suggests, nudging your side with a smile. “It would not be so bad,” she continues.  

You don’t reply, thinking only of the wedding and the many dreadful things that would surely come with it. Your older brother was to be wed to some southern girl, warranting all of the Northern houses to travel to your home for the occasion. Entertaining the many Lords and Ladies was now the least of your worries, considering what Jayne had reminded you of. 

“Come on,” Jayne pulls your attention, “The Houses will be arriving soon. You’re father won’t be happy if we’re late.” You look to her, worry flashing over your features. 

A sudden smile forms on her lips, “Bet you I can get there first!” She yells already starting to gallop. 

You smile after her, “Hey! Cheater!” You exclaim rushing after her. 

 

________________________________________________________

 

Unfortunately, the weather turned quickly and a heavy rain hindered your arrival. You came to the castle gates as another House was entering.  You dreaded what you must’ve looked like. Every inch of your body was soaked from the rain. Hair stuck to your cheeks and the fabric of your dress clung dangerously close to your features. You followed the men in, trying to avoid the gaze of your father greeting his guests in the courtyard. Your entrance had not gone unnoticed and your father’s attention was quickly drawn from the Lord before him to you. However your gaze was drawn to the man as he turned to observe the reason for your father’s sudden scowl. His eyes were dark and piercing— unnervingly intense, but you could not bring yourself to look away. His gaze did not portray a hint of emotion. 

“(Y/N),” Jayne whispered, grabbing your attention. You quickly regained your composure and followed her to the stable. 

You began to walk quickly to your room to clean up with Jayne trailing behind. “What was that about?” She questioned. 

“What are you talking about,” you ask, confused.

“Do you know Lord Bolton? I think he took an interest in you.” She states. 

You scoff at the idea, “I’m sure the uncouth and late arrival of Lord Bailon’s daughter drew the interest of many men.” She continued trying to catch up with your quick pace. 

“Be careful (Y/N), the Bolton’s are cruel. They flay their enemies.” You stop at the sudden realization of who the man was. You had heard many stories of the Bolton’s and their cruelty in battle. 

Jayne looks to you with worry. “It doesn’t matter, Jayne, he wasn’t taking an interest… He was displeased with my unladylike display.” You assure her. “I need to get cleaned up. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

 

________________________________________________________

 

The ceremony was almost over as you glanced to your left where you notice Lord Bolton across the aisle. He stood with his hands clasped before him. You glance over his attire. He wears almost all black, aside from the furs on his cloak. Black suites him, you think. But his most noticeable feature was his mask of seriousness. You look to his face, searching for any fault in his severity. Suddenly he looks over, catching your eyes as you quickly look forward. 

Jayne seems to have witnessed this and nudges your arm, slight annoyance on her features. 

Soon after, the ceremony ended and the feast begun. Jayne took the seat beside you. “ _You’ve_ taken an interest in _him_.” She clarifies her earlier theory. 

You laugh dryly. “No, I was simply admiring his unwavering severity. I’ve decided I couldn’t marry such a stern man.” You quip with a grin. 

“Speaking of…” Jayne whispers.

You turn to see you father and Lord Bolton talking while moving leisurely towards your position. Lord Bailon stops close enough for you to hear the conversation. They look over the crowd of people dancing. 

“Lord Bolton,” your father begins, “I fear you are missing out on the night’s festivities.” The man looks amused at this. Your father continues over the silence, “None of the ladies could take your interest?” He smiles, seeking a response. 

Lord Bolton seems slightly annoyed with the pestering. “I don’t dance,” he states frankly. 

“Perhaps my daughter, (Y/N), could tempt you?” Lord Bailon offers, causing you to stiffen at the mention of your name to the man. 

Your father walks over to you, “(Y/N), you remember Lord Bolton, you met him  when you were very young.” You look back to the man, his eyes bore into yours unfaltering. 

“My Lady,” He reaches his hand out, waiting for your own. You cautiously place your hand into his. His grasp quickly tightens as he runs a calloused finger over your knuckle before slowly bringing it to his lips. After a moment, his grasp releases.

“I insist you offer your hand for the next dance,” Your father urges. 

Lord Bolton and you share an irritated glance at the thought of dancing. You shy away from his intense gaze, “I’m afraid I would be an unbearable partner, I don’t have the gift for it.” 

“Nonsense.” Your father replies, “You are-“ 

“I believe your daughter is merely attempting to save me the embarrassment.” Lord Bolton spoke smoothly, attempting to persuade your father to let it go. 

 “I insist,” He continues, “...Ask for my daughter’s hand before one of these young fools does.” He laughs. 

Lord Bolton is visibly unhappy with his situation, but resolves to go along, “For the sake of (Y/N),” He directs his attention to you, “I will have to ask for your hand in the next dance.” He states cooly.

“Of course, my lord.” You agree. 

Your father smiles, “Very good, I think you will find my daughter’s company pleasant, Lord Bolton.”

“I am sure.” He agrees, slight annoyance in his tone. They continue their previous route and walk away. 

Jayne looks to you in bewilderment and you to her. “Did I just agree to dance with him?” You ask.

“I dare say you’ve already fallen for his charm,” she jests. 

“It would be most inconvenient since I’ve sworn to never marry him.” You both laugh. 

A few moments later you make your way to the open floor where you find Lord Bolton. He quickly takes your hand and grips your waist, pulling your chest to his. He almost lifts you from the ground as he moves through the dance movements, which you are almost thankful for. 

Being so close you can smell his scent, it was surprisingly intoxicating. You take a heavy breath, a result of your growing nerves.

You look up to his eyes. He watches the crowd, probably looking to avoid any intimacy. Suddenly his eyes meet yours and you look away, embarrassment spreading over your cheeks. 

You feel his eyes studying your face. “You’re afraid of me.” He decides.

You bring your face back to his direction, still avoiding his eyes. “I’ve heard the stories.” You say lowly.

“What do the stories say?” He asks, fully aware of the rumors surrounding him.

He continues to move slowly along with the song. You lean in slightly due to the nature of the conversation. “That you flay men alive,” you whisper breathily.   

He chuckles at your response. “You find that funny?” You ask, finding a bit more courage, while now looking him in the eyes. 

His amusement quickly turns to seriousness. “You are not a man, nor my enemy… You have no reason to fear me.” He states gruffly. 

You look to his eyes, searching for any fault in sincerity. Finding none, you look away, slightly flustered. 

“Do you often make such grand entrances?” He asks, looking over the crowd as he moves your body along with his. 

“Only when the weather permits.” You quip. 

You notice the corner of his mouth turn upward into a small smirk. You smile at your small feat of breaking his hard exterior. 

A few moments pass, as you find the gaze of your father watching the two of you. 

“You must be popular with the young men…” He states, looking to you for a response. You look at him puzzled. He continues for clarification, “… For your father to so persistently pursue another man for you to dance with.”

You scoff abruptly. He looks to you with curiosity. “No, my Lord. I have no issue with the attention of the boys.” You state, still amused. 

He smiles at your response. “Perhaps it is a lack of interest on your part, that hinders your knowledge of their attentions.” 

You look to him with a new found curiosity. “Perhaps you are correct.” You reply contently.

His smirk reappears. “I’m not surprised,” He whispers inching closer to you, “You need a man to take care of you,” He pauses for a moment, “…and your needs.” 

 

Suddenly the dance ends and he retreats, leaving you stunned and alone. 


End file.
